Something Tangible
by cynthiarox66
Summary: She wonders if she can touch him and feel something warm and solid. Because despite his cold, stoic exterior, his hands tell a different story. Oneshot.


**My first Spiral fanfiction! I've only watched the anime, but I vaguely know what happens in the manga. No worries, this is a pretty calm, happy fic. No spoilers at all ^.^**

**I've experimented with my usual writing style, so for those who have read my other fanfics, this one may sound strange, but I watched to keep the language simple and airy to match the aura that Spiral gives off. **

**Setting? I'm not sure myself. I basically just took the bridge and river/bay thingy from the anime and combined it.  
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><p>Water flows beneath the bridge. Though it moves with the occasional ripple, it retains its reflective qualities, returning the parallel image of the clouds to the sky. A small yacht bobs up and down, tethered to the dock below.<p>

I am sandwiched. Behind me is the sound of tires squelching over rainwater at the intersections, men and women walking to work (on a _Saturday_), children splashing in the puddles. To the left is a peeling telephone pole. To the right is an apathetic grump that could very well be mistaken for a soggy washrag. Even his brow is smooth, droopy, as he leans his elbows against the rail and sighs.

"Remind me again, why are we here?"

At least in front of me, I can look out without feeling trapped. The metal bridge is the only thing separating me from the expanse of water, swollen from the recent shower. "Narumi-san," I chide, "I just told you a minute ago. It's a beautiful day outside and I thought with the rare free moment, we could _both _enjoy the scenery."

He makes that noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.

I want to let out a little sigh of my own. I want to brood and sulk and for once, talk to him without a shred of laughter in my voice, like a serious equal. But I can't.

Hiyono Yuizaki is not allowed to do any of those things, especially around _him. _He, the person who never takes a moment to bask in the beauty of the little things in life certainly does not need a partner that is just as gloomy as he is. I fear that if I shed my trademark smile, the partnership will _literally _start sinking into a black swamp of gloominess.

While he fixates his gaze ahead with no real focus, I take the chance to peek at him. The past year I've been through thick and thin with Narumi-san, yet I doubt I know him very well at all. He's like a feather with a fifty-pound anchor tying him down. He's a bad mood festering on the bay, a leaf tossed around with the raging tide. I find him lounging at the top of the roof more often than not and can't help but feel a little pang in my heart.

A pang of fear.

The wind is strong up there, and his eyes always seem so far away. They too, like the water, reflect the clouds. Up there, he seems more insubstantial than usual, and silly as the thought is, I fear one day, he'll be blown away with an exceptionally strong gale.

Narumi-san's familiar voice brings me away from my thoughts. "Stop."

"Huh?"

"It's creepy when you stare like that," he says dryly, and with that his attention slowly drifts back to nowhere in particular.

Internally, I huff. Even his manner of speaking requires no excess words. It's as if he is unable to gather up the energy to make a proper conversation with me.

In reality, I don't mind. I like him the way he is. Perhaps the only way he can feel at ease is to pretend not to care.

My shoulders begin to cramp so I lift my arms in a stretch. Cool air touches the inch of skin where my coat sleeves fall back to expose my wrists.

"Ah! It _is _a beautiful, magical day!" I sing out to the yacht , to the gray sky, to the lone duck paddling in circles in the shadow of the bridge, and (sadly) to my deaf companion. It's futile. His attention is now absorbed on the greenish mold growing where the yacht meets the water's surface. Admitting defeat, I drop my arms and plop my elbows back onto the rail. Instead of finding the dew spotted metal beneath my palm, I find Narumi-san's hand.

The air around me congeals and freezes, only to be shattered abruptly as I jerk my hand away. He doesn't seem to notice the disturbance. Gingerly, I rest my hand a good few inches away from his.

My heart stumbles over itself, confused. What was that? Why did I withdraw as if I had touched a boiling cup of tea? _Disgust? Embarrassment?_

It's even worse when I discover the true answer: Fear. I rack my brain furiously in shame. What can I possibly be scared of?

That's when I realize that I fear touching him for the same reason I fear the wind will blow him away. His passive, stoic demeanor—is it tangible? Is _he, _Ayumu Narumi, tangible?

I glance down at his hand again.

The fingers that hold the rail belong to Narumi-san's and nobody else. They are not sinewy and bulky, not willowy and long, not short and stubby—and far from perfect. The nails are kept short, practical for a secret piano player. A pattern of iris-colored veins is visible across the back, given his thin frame. His hands still show telltale signs of his youth, no scarred, not nicked (just goes to show how great a cook he is) and unblemished for the most part.

All I have to do is look at his hands and I am jolted back to the time those same fingers pressed numbers into the pad, decoding the bomb. Those fingers which I could only imagine flying over the black and white keys, for no matter how I pressed him he would not play for me. Those fingers slicing and dicing, opening the lid of the cooker to see if the rice was done.

My fears are groundless.

By now I'm in such a revelation that I don't care if he realizes that I'm ogling at his hand, those blessed-cursed, young-experienced, perfect-imperfect hands of his, for I myself have just realized that Narumi-san _does _care.

He cares.

He's a solid, warm being, who doesn't just float from one day to the next without purpose. His purpose speaks for itself. His happiness is not the same as mine—he does not break into song, laugh much at all, or savor divine, good food (he's quite the strange person)—but Narumi-san makes the best of whatever fate tosses into his hands.

I love his hands for this reason. And just this once, I would like to know how it feels to clasp his hand in mine. I want to feel his warmth and emotion for myself.

I raise my hand so that it hovers in the air uncertainly for a second. Suddenly, all moisture evaporates from my throat and I struggle to swallow. A pounding manifests in my ears. It's my heart, having wormed its way up my throat and now thumping uncomfortably in my sinuses. Why am I so nervous? I've dragged Narumi-san all over the city with my own two hands, this is no different.

"Is there something wrong?" He's peering at my face. "You look kinda sick."

I laugh too loudly. "Me? Sick? I'm indestructible, Narumi-san! Can't fall ill and miss a day of gossip, eh?"

"Whatever." The wind blows over our heads, carrying into the bay. It contains that sort of chilly quality, a transition from winter to spring, and causes my nose to wrinkle pleasantly.

Hardly anything escapes his keen eye. "We should get going." He straightens his spine so that he's not leaning on the rail anymore.

"No, wait!" I grab his hand because this is okay. Even if now I know more strings attach him to this world than it may seem, I'll always be there to give him something solid to hold onto. "Wait just a moment." I scan the sky above us. The heavens grant my wish, and I'm tugging Naurmi-san by his jacket sleeve so he's right besides me again. "Look!"

He follows the line of my finger, and I watch for his reaction. Like a jigsaw puzzle gradually scattering, the dense gray clouds part with the breeze. A sliver of light trickles through and filters through the air. It hits the water.

I hold my breath, but wish having been granted, the heavens withdraws its generosity. The wind throws the clouds back together, and the area is cast in blue-gray tones once more.

I try my best to cover my disappointment, but not before he notices.

"The best things come and go in moments," says Narumi-san.

"Yup!" I smile for him. "You can be so philosophical sometimes!"

He shakes his head. "I'm just myself, nothing more."

_But oh, your hands make you who you are, and they are so much more. _"Come on, let's go."

But something holds me in place as I prepare to turn around.

His hand rests on mine.

And in my heart, I know that some beautiful things also last for a lifetime.

As I had known all along, it's solid. And warm.

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><p><strong>*Hides beneath desk* Where was the kiss? I honestly don't know, so don't hurt me! I'm about to fall asleep...never knew I could write something so tranquil and...boring. <strong>

**Well, I appreciate your reviews and feedback! Thank you!  
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